


Hearts and heroes: how to save a life

by Amurleopard123



Category: Hearts and heroes, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: #heartsandheroes #markiplier #spinoff #fangame #videogame, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 07:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14039046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amurleopard123/pseuds/Amurleopard123
Summary: Well this is a spin off of the fan game Mark played on my birthday, March 15.I hope to incorporate my own stuff as this is one of the only ways I can thank the creators, by adding onto their creation.I hope i don't ruin it





	1. Chapter 1

Every day feels so monotonous to me now.  
I get up.  
I get dressed.  
I go to school.  
I register.  
I see my friends.  
I laugh.  
I feel like a marionette dancing on a stage.  
Is my purpose to remain a form of entertainment as I flail and turn.  
I go to my first lesson.  
If the teacher asks, I answer. I am occasionally wrong or misguided. When that happens I can’t help but feel like they have seen through. I don’t know everything, but I don’t fit in with anything else they think I could be. So I try.  
Second lesson.  
Break.  
Third.  
I feel as if i’m in a spiral.  
And I don’t know where the bottom may be.  
It will end in hopelessness.  
But.  
Where else do I have left to go?  
Even my last sanctuary is turning against me.  
Fourth.  
Lunch.  
Fifth.  
Sixth.  
Home.  
Work.  
Sleep.  
…  
..!


	2. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I saw hearts and heroes and was like 'hey I wanna do a silent hill bit' so here we go. I hope I do the series justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STILL AN ERRATIC WRITER. Sorry this took so long I procrastinate too much. Anyway silent hill here we go! This is the version that everyone who goes to silent hill has their own silent hill or 'punishment'. Please don't slam me bout it, I do like silent hill but I've only seen and know the story of the 1st, 2nd and 3rd games and pt. I know I need to look at SH4 but give me time.

I walk down a street in an unfamiliar town. A white fog hangs over the town, keeping everything muffled in its cold embrace. Ash falls, tumbling from the sky like snow. I stop, pull a die out of my pocket and throw it.  
1 stay here  
2 go left at the next opportunity  
3 go right at the next opportunity  
4 go ahead and roll again at the next crossroads  
5 go ahead and don't stop  
6…  
I roll a 3  
I turn right into a parking lot and begin to climb the concrete stairs of an abandoned council estate apartment block. I always have a vague sense that I need to come up here, go up the stairs to the roof. I don't even roll most of the time. When I do, it always tells me ‘go up’. I don't know why. I've never lived in council housing, though my own house is just as bleak.  
I feel apprehensive as I approach the light coming from the open door at the top of the stairs. Normally I slip into sleep and I wake up at the mouth of the street where I always start. This time though, there was a light stronger than my dream. I didn't want to go but I still feel the surprise and shock  
This is my dream. No one should reach me here  
I reach the top of the building and two women, smartly dressed, one in black, the other in white, turn in unison. They are literally ‘joined at the hip’ and looking at them is similar to watching a woman and a mirror. One always mirrors the other, although it is unclear who's the original and who's the imitation. They don't speak as such.  
A dove, half black, half white, flies down, an olive branch burned onto its chest. They move their mouths, but the shriek imitation of human voice comes from the bird's mouth.  
You have five minutes  
‘Normally I don't get a warning. What's the occasion’  
Intruders. They will not follow. They have no crime  
I sigh and walk to the edge of the building, sitting down and waving my feet back and forth over the drop. My throat suddenly felt very dry and I stared, trying to feel  
Anything  
Any guilt  
Any remorse  
A siren blasted through the empty. Wailing. Warning. As it rang, the environment seemed to change. Concrete crumbled and became stained with rust and a brownish colour. The air reeked of copper, sulphur, iron and salt. The road split with a noise like a thunder clap and eerie wails echoed from far away. The light darkened, the fog lifted and the corrugated metal of the opposite roof began to shine and waver in a sudden heat. My roof was now empty, the door swinging on flimsy, ancient hinges. The cracks ran across the roof like a spider’s web. Just to try it, I threw a piece of concrete that had once been part of the ledge I still sat on. The entire roof groaned and collapsed in on itself, crushing the brief figures of a Father, sitting on a sofa, watching TV, a Mother writing on a computer, a Daughter sitting on a bench, reading a book, radiating ignorance. Shadows gone as soon as they come. Next to me, two objects sit, my only defence, a pen knife, the longest blade only seven centimetres long, and an old zippo lighter, the kind that young thugs and local gang members used to use, chucking them into our garden, trying to set our cat on fire just by throwing it. These, the weapons that my mind have provided. I’ve tried to wake up, but how can you wake yourself up from a nightmare so much more black and white than the real world. A punishment for things I’ve done. God given or self inflicted, it doesn’t really matter in the end. All that matters is whether I deserve it. That is one of the only things I’m sure of. I pick up my weapons and get up, standing on the edge of the roof. Walking along the edge, I reach a rusted fire escape and climb down the side of the building, careful to avoid the orange spots at the some of the steps. I put my leg through one of them once and spent the rest of my dream running with a wounded leg and weirdly I got tetanus in the waking world not long after. I reach the pavement and wince. One thing which I definitely miss whenever I come here is shoes. Surprising as it is, running on concrete and flint is not easy on your feet and while I’m never cold whilst I’m in the hellworld I would appreciate not getting cuts and burns on the soles of my feet. The first of them come for me. They guard the streets, wearing tattered hoodies with iron strings. They always make a repulsive gurgling so I try to stay away from them when I can. Unfortunately, while I have my own weapons, they have theirs too. Stanley knives are embedded in their fingers like cats claws, making an awful clicking sound when they slide out. It’s the clicking that surrounds me now as they attempt to drive me, like a sheep dog does to a flock of particularly twitchy sheep. However, I must admit that I’ve become so used to them that I know that they hate fire. Ironically, most of the things here do. It’s why I’m frantically trying to get the lighter to work, knowing that they’re much faster than me for all their stumbling. Finally a yellow spark strikes and lights. So relieved I barely have time to register that the crows are circling again, I throw the lighter at them. The oil that is spattered across the street flares and captures one of them in a shrieking, blazing inferno. The rest retreat. When the oil around the lighter burns I snatch it up and snap it shut, suffocating the flame. Turning, I run towards the school at the centre of the town. It has my safe place, where I can at least go until I am called. The grassy approach is black and dead, red crates and suitcases strewn across the grounds, some open, some closed. They contain uniforms, ties, shirts, jeans and makeup. The crates tend to hold pictures or schoolbooks. It’s never worth looking at them because they change as soon as I look away. The only cars there are old, burnt out wrecks. Keys hang from trees on strings round here but none of them start the cars. Believe me. I tried every one. I shoulder through the doors of the main entrance, stop at the reception and write my name. If I don’t, the people that live here will treat me as an intruder. Teachers and students walk down the halls, faces bandaged. The female students are wearing white and blue checked summer dresses. Black oil stains the front and back of the skirt section, running down their legs instead of blood. The male students are all wearing once smart uniform frayed and torn. Their ties have been slashed and their shoes have no soles. They leave black footprints behind them. Their laughter and chatter sounds distant and distorted, like I’m hearing them underwater. I walk down the long corridor to one of the identical classrooms. There is a class within but they all stare blankly ahead while the teacher itself writes nonsense words in a scrawl across the whiteboard, pen squeaking loudly in protest. It’s nails are yellow, long and bitten. Whenever it breathes, smoke tumbles out of its mouth. I take a seat near the back of the classroom and wait. It takes a long time for the sirens to wail through the world. The monsters stiffen as they hear it and suddenly burst apart in storms of black ash. The fog descends and the world is coated in blankness once again. I know it is only a matter of time before the world again drifts into its active hellworld state. I get up, walking towards the door and running down the corridor. I burst out of the main entrance and sprint towards the small supermarket at the end of the high street. I count in my head  
Seventeen…  
Sixteen…  
Fifteen..  
I reach the crossroads. Only a few more yards.  
Twelve…  
Eleven…  
Ten…  
I reached the doors and burst through, turning the lock on the door behind me. My count had been off by two seconds. It was eight seconds before the siren tore through the air again. The monsters would be coming now. I ran to the back and went down the set of stairs to the basement. There was a hole cut into the centre of the floor and it was here that I went to. Steeling myself, I jumped down, a hand on the knife in my pocket. Blackness enveloped me and I felt the impending loss of consciousness. I knew I didn’t have long. Taking the knife, die and Zippo lighter, I tied them securely to my hoodie strings. I’d lost them before and hadn’t lasted longer than five minutes. I’d also decided once to tear my hoodie sleeves off and tie them round my feet with the strings for protection but it had taken too long to undo the knots and a monster had broken through the locked door and thrown me against the concrete wall of the cellar. I hadn’t got up after that. After making sure that my protections were safe, I spread myself out and let unconsciousness claim me.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry the first bit is depressing! Depending on the time I may change from first to third  
> Secondly, if anyone does read this and want more, beware I am a fickle writer. I have 12 story concepts sitting on my computer but I can barely work on them. Who knows I could put them on here one day  
> Bye!


End file.
